cing attitude
that was immensely startling and grotesque. Many of the natives were
now afraid to go about on the farm after dusk. They said the
prickly-pears threatened them, even ran after them, intent on revenge.

Christine had heard Mr. van Cannan say that his father knew the man
whose grandfather was the first Dutchman to introduce the prickly-pear
into the Karoo. It was a great treasure then, being looked upon as
good fodder for beast and ostrich in time of drought, and the boy used
to be beaten if he did not properly water the leaves which were being
laboriously preserved on the great trek into the desert.
Unfortunately, the preservation had been so complete that it was now
the ruin of many a fine Karoo estate, springing up everywhere,
smothering other growths and destroying, with its tiny multitudinous
thorns, the stomachs of the cattle, who love too much its watery
leaves. Mr. van Cannan was one of the farmers rich enough to take
drastic steps to save his farm. Saltire was doing it for him very
thoroughly and efficiently.

"How much longer do you expect to be?" asked van Cannan.

"Oh, another three weeks ought to finish the job," said Saltire. "But,
as you know, they are most persistent things. When you think they are
done for, you find them sprouting green again below the wound, and have
to give them another dose."

"Three weeks!" muttered van Cannan, with moody eyes. He looked to
Christine like a man suffering with sickness of the soul. Everyone
supposed the rest-cure definitely settled on, but, with the
contrariness of an ailing child, he suddenly announced determinedly, "I
shall leave for East London this afternoon."

The children were called to kiss him good-bye, and they clustered round
him.

"Take care of them for me," he said, with a piercing wistfulness, to
Christine. "Take care of my boy."

Then he turned brusquely to Saxby, making arrangements for a mule-cart
to be ready at two o'clock to drive him into Cradock, the nearest large
town, where he would have to spend the night before proceeding farther
by rail.

Christine could not but be struck by the words he had used, and mused
over them wonderingly while she tucked Rita and Coral under their
mosquito-curtains. It was her habit to spend this hour with Roddy and
a story-book. But today he hovered restlessly, showing no inclination
to settle down, and seeming full of some suppressed excitement. At
last, he whispered in her ear: